


Cold and cracked

by israfel00



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguing, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jonsa Drabble Fest, Not Beta Read, POV Jon Snow, Political Jon Snow, Season/Series 08, Tent 2.0, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24177085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/israfel00/pseuds/israfel00
Summary: "Do you have any faith in me at all?"He had not prepared forthis.drabblefest day 5:winterfell
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63
Collections: Jon x Sansa Drabble





	Cold and cracked

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know it's over 500 words. But it's only *just* over...

"Do you have any faith in me at all?"

For a moment there was silence.

As he waited, he watched her face. That face he had missed, that face that had burned in his mind ever since Castle Black. That face which had made him take his first breath since being brought back.

People said that Sansa was her mother come again but he'd not seen that when she sprang into his arms, nor when they were snarling and growling in the tent before the battle. Nor when she had silently demanded her kill in the yard afterwards. Nor when they had spoken on the battlements. There was always that hint of flame in her gaze, in her words.

Now, for the first time, he couldn't see that. For the first time he could only see Lady Catelyn. The frozen mask that never smiled, never relaxed. The cold gaze that never revealed anything but the terrible fury behind it, barely leashed and always howling at him.

He'd prepared for anger, for confusion, for sadness. He'd prepared for relief that his attentions were now safely diverted away from...-

_No. Don't think about that._

He had prepared for the entire North shunning him as the King who gave away his crown. To be hated and reviled. To be cursed like Torrhen Stark. If his people could draw breath to curse, if they weren't cinders and ash, he could endure it.

But he had not prepared for _this._

She took a breath.

He tensed, rocking onto the balls of his feet like he was about to go into battle.

"You know I do."

The gaze stayed.

He suddenly felt very tired.

"She'll be a good queen," he tried. "For all of us."

Silence.

"She's not her father."

That cold gaze turned even colder.

"No," Sansa bit out. "She's much prettier."

He blinked. Opened his mouth - and realised he had nothing to say, so covered it with a half-chuckle. Seeing her lips twitch lifted the weight on his chest a little and made his own smile feel less forced.

She took a breath.

"Did you bend the knee to save the North, or because you love her?"

He gazed at her, stunned.

_What...?_

_How could you..._

_Can't you see?_

Each answer flitted through his mind, getting faster and louder.

_You told me to be smarter than Father, smarter than Robb._

_Wasn't that what you did in Kings Landing? Give them what they wanted, no matter how much it made your skin crawl?_

_We need her army! We need the dragonglass! She has DRAGONS!_

_I needed to get her North._

He could feel his jaw clenching with the force of holding his tongue and wondered what she would make of it.

_I brought her North. I brought her North by whatever means I had to! I suppose Baelish brought the Knights of the Vale out of the goodness of his heart, did he?_

He took a ragged, shaking breath. Then another. Then another. Until his breathing was even again.

"So. You _don't_ have faith in me. At all."

He saw the mask crack, saw her mouth open.

He didn't stay to see any more.


End file.
